My Trip to the Hospital

D-WARNING: The following story contains details that no true gentlemen would ever recount in any proper conversation, but because this story pertains to life in the Peace Corps, I will dispense with these formalities. No, seriously, this story is gross; consider yourself warned. Ughhhhh, when I get diarrhea at home it is unpleasant and inconvenient. When I get diarrhea in the Peace Corps, I know that the diarrhea is going to be the least inconvenient part of my day. You see, the worst part about getting diarrhea is what you have to do about it. That, or maybe I have had two exceptionally bad experiences, or I am a sissy…. who knows… but I digress… The course of my day started with calling in sick once I determined that walking to school and standing all morning would be dangerous. Still, I had to walk to the hospital very, very slowly, for obvious reasons. Thinking back it would have been smarter to take a tuktuk (or bajaj as they are referred to here). Anyway, on my way there a gangly beggar-woman started following me while rambling in a language that I am sure only she understood. I asked her in Afan Oromo “Maalbarbada?” (What do you want?), but I couldn’t identify an intelligible response. Normally they reply by asking for money or something. I really badly wanted to lose her, so I quickened my pace when suddenly she knelt to the ground and started screaming “WAYYO! WAYYO!” If you read the last post, this was this same thing that the “demon-possessed” girl was screaming. Obviously this woman was also deranged, but luckily some other local folks descended upon her and kept her from harassing me further. I finally reached the hospital after asking half a dozen locals who were shocked that I could speak any of the local language. I had to explain to at least three differentpeople what the Peace Corps is. One of them even replied “I don’t understand” to which I replied “It’s okay, I am not entirely sure my family does either.” I arrived at the clinic entrance only to find that is crowded with at least 70 people waiting to see a doctor, and many of these people were truly sick looking. Here’s where things got a little awkward. Because I am obviously a westerner, I was immediately served first, as had been the case the last time I had to go to the hospital for a similar issue. On one hand you feel bad about it, but on the other you just want to get the hell out of there. So I just went on ahead. By the way, the Peace Corps medical staff are amazing! However, in a case such as this, they will advise you to go to a local clinic to run tests, after which my Peace Corps doctor will consult with the local doctor over the phone to determine the best course of action. Per the Peace Corps doc’s request, I called him immediately after I arrived at the clinic, which would be necessary anyway since neither my Amharic orAfan Oromo skills are up to the task of explaining the problem. You can also see why pantomiming would also be awkward. People already think you are weird enough because you are white and in their town in the first place. Embarrassed at the extremely blatant priority given to me, I walk past all of the other sick people and into the doctor’s office. The doctor luckily spoke English very well and determined with the help of my Peace Corps doctor that I needed to provide a stool sample. Ahh man, I knew this was coming. I walked over to the lab with a man who was asking me the usual questions, and as per usual went right to the front of the line at the lab to get my tests done. Then to my befuddlement, the nurse hands me a stick that looks like a little tooth pick with a tiny little piece of cotton at the end and instructs me to bring back a stool sample. I thought to myself “Okay, at least they only need tiny bit. Last time they made go into a cup.” Another nurse directs me outside to the latrine, outside of which there are at least half a dozen other people there for the same purpose only they were content with just squatting out there on the lawn sans privacy. Well, I am still a little too green to do that, so I proceed to the latrine where it immediately became quite clear to me why no one was inside of it as it was near full and completely filthy on the inside. Still, I wanted my privacy. I proceeded to do what I thought was the right thing with the stick and just swabbed the area a little bit when suddenly I dropped the stick down the hole. Damn, now I had to go back and get another one. This time I was handed a Q-tip and a little lid to rest it on when I was finished (Couldn’t they have given me that last time as well? Whatever.). I repeated the same steps I took before and was very happy to finally hand over the sample and get out of there. Not so fast. The lady looked confused at the stick and said “No stool?” She explained that there needed to be more and handed me a bigger cup, to which I argued that getting it in a cup squatting over a latrine simply wasn’t an option because I am passing only liquid which is expelled like a shot gun blast. She still didn’t understand. Suddenly a woman pushes past me with a bloody sample of her own. The nurse actually grabbed the woman’s sample and showed it to me and said “See! Like this!” Getting angry, I explained that there was no way to collect a larger sample under these conditions without making a mess on my hands. Setting the cup on the ground wasn’t an option either unless she wanted to sample every other patient who had hitherto been there that morning as well. I asked for toilet paper, but she refused, saying there wasn’t any. There was also no soap and water available, so it wasn’t like I could just take it like a man and wash up later. By now I am furious and contemplating hopping a bus to Addis and meeting the Peace Corps doctor face to face. I called him instead and passed the phone off to the technician. Finally, the male tech produced toilet paper, rubber gloves, a bigger cup, and lead me to a TOILET. Anyway, to keep a long story from becoming an epic novel, I only have gastroenteritis, which is treatable with simple antibiotics. Luckily, I already had the antibiotics in my med kit so I didn’t have to navigate a pharmacy after that as well. Donovan Gregg